


eights

by escherzo



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Columbus Blue Jackets, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo
Summary: In Seth’s defense, when he leaves a comment saying “haha ya still lonely over here” on the picture of Wenny and his girlfriend, he is sitting at home alone, getting drunk on his couch.This is not actually a very good defense.





	eights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blamefincham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/gifts).



> I can't remember what Seth's living situation re: roommates is at the moment but for the purposes of this fic he's currently living alone. 
> 
> The referenced insta comment, by the way, is real. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bbu9oruHrjl/?hl=en&taken-by=alexanderwennberg

In Seth’s defense, when he leaves a comment saying “haha ya still lonely over here” on the picture of Wenny and his girlfriend, he is sitting at home alone, getting drunk on his couch. 

This is not actually a very good defense. It certainly doesn’t make him feel less pathetic, and tagging in Hartsy, who used to be his go-to fellow single but is now _married_ , was not a great move either in retrospect. 

Whatever. He’s horribly single and downing Christmas-themed local beer in an apartment whose only other concession to the season is a pre-lit fake tree off in a corner, and if he wants to throw a pity party for himself, he is going to throw a pity party. Probably, he thinks idly as he cracks open another beer, he should make a New Years resolution to be more approachable. Nicer. Or at least better at dealing with strangers. He’s never going to be Harry, who shoots sunshine out his ass and literally walks his hookups home and remembers all their names and how their families are doing, but he should at least _try_. He’s going to come to family Christmas by himself again and his mom’s going to get that look on her face again and man, _Caleb_ is bringing someone with him this year. 

There’s a knock on the door. Seth sways a bit as he gets up, bracing himself on the arm of the couch, but he manages to get himself upright long enough to open the door with a reasonable amount of dignity. 

Said attempt at dignity is lost when Boone and Ryan shoulder past him before he can get out a “hello,” carrying a bunch of plastic bags. Boone is wearing a Santa hat. 

(Ryan is wearing his dumb trapper hat like he thinks he’s still in Saskatchewan and might need to go out hunting at some point tonight, but it’s cute on him, so Seth largely gives him a pass on that)

“Uh,” he says. 

“I got a text,” Boone says, dry. “It was basically ‘your boy is moping, go deal with that shit.’” 

Well. That answers the question of ‘did Hartsy see that he was tagged on the comment’. 

“I’m not moping,” Seth says, although the collection of empty bottles on the coffee table doesn’t exactly help his case.

“Yeah, and he’s not being Santa,” Ryan says, smiling as he nods in Boone’s direction. “Shush and let us cheer you up.” 

Boone sets the collection of plastic bags down next to the coffee table and starts scooting bottles out of the way so he can unpack, apparently uncaring that it’s weird as shit that he’s shown up at Seth’s apartment in a Santa hat. But the bags contain more beer, a bottle of nice bourbon, a takeout container—“We got Melt delivered and got an extra, it’s the meatball sandwich one and some fries”—and a pack of cards. 

“Holy shit,” Seth says. He might kiss Boone. Or Ryan. Or both of them. Whichever one’s idea it was to bring all this over, they’re getting macked on.

Well. Once he’s done eating, anyway.

“Why’d you get an extra?” Seth asks around a mouthful of meatball and marinara and fried mozzarella cheese wedge. Boone has settled in on his right and Ryan briefly left for the kitchen to get cups for the bourbon but then wedged himself in on his left, and the couch is really more a loveseat and is not big enough for three hockey asses, so all of a sudden it’s cozy as shit. Tonight is definitely looking up. 

“Thought I was hungry enough for two and I wasn’t,” Boone says with a shrug, sliding the cards out of the box so he can start shuffling them. “Your choice.”

“Not Spoons,” Ryan says.

“Mostly your choice,” Boone amends.

Ryan is a little scarred when it comes to Spoons, on account of his siblings being excessively competitive about it growing up. Also he’s just bad at it. Seth will give him the first one, and mostly doesn’t mention the second for the sake of Ryan’s pride.

“Think I’m too tipsy to not be shit at Euchre,” he says, mulling it over. “Crazy 8s?” 

“You got it.” 

By the time they get through one round and declare a rematch, Boone and Ryan are both a couple beers deep and Seth’s added two cups of bourbon to what he was already working with and polished off his sandwich. Said declaring of a rematch may involve some throwing of cards, also.

“So what’s the deal with the moping?” Boone asks, picking up the stray cards thrown in his direction from the floor and trying not to smile like the sore winner he always is. 

Seth shrugs, not sober enough to be reticent about the whole thing. “Caleb told me he’s bringing this girl to Christmas this year and I’m going alone and my mom’s gonna worry again. Wenny posting pictures of his girl just reminded me of it.” 

“You should just ask Nuti,” Ryan suggests. “His family can’t come this year.”

“Bringing a teammate still looks pretty fucking single.” He might ask Nuti though. Just to make sure he has somewhere to go for Christmas. But everyone loves the guy, so he’s probably got other offers lined up already. 

“He could pull off being your fake boyfriend for a few days.” 

“I don’t want a _fake_ boyfriend.” Wait. Fuck.

Shit.

Boone’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t say anything, just deals Seth his cards. 

“You know we’re cool if you want a not-fake boyfriend, right?” Ryan asks, ten minutes of conspicuously not mentioning what Seth just blurted out later. He sets down the eight of hearts. “Clubs.”

“Fuck,” Seth says, staring at his hand full of spades and diamonds.

“No, really, it’s fine.”

“I think the fuck was more about what’s in his hand,” Boone says, smile widening. Goddamnit, he’s going to win again, isn’t he. “But yeah, we’re cool.” 

It’s not that Seth was expecting to get like, punched in the face, or thrown a parade for that matter, but the level of chill about this is not quite what he envisioned. He would probably have gotten more reaction by saying “I like pineapple on pizza.” 

“Uhm. Huh. Cool.” 

Smooth, bro. Real smooth. He takes a long swig of beer to try and regain a measure of dignity, and then promptly chokes on it when Ryan follows that up with, “We’re not that exclusive but we’re boyfriends, so.” 

There are approximately two dozen things Seth wants to ask, once he’s done coughing up a lung after inhaling part of his beer, but mostly what comes out is a squawked, “wait, since when?”

“My second year? When we were both out for most of the season.” Ryan’s trying to play it casual, but he looks a little nervous, now. 

Seth nods, setting the three of spades on top of the three of clubs. “Gotcha.” It’s not that he has a problem with it, it’s mostly that he’s either oblivious or his gaydar sucks or both (it’s probably both) and he hasn’t noticed at all. And then, the lightbulb goes on.

“How not exclusive are we talking?” he asks. It’s not the most subtle he’s ever been. 

They’re both wedged in on either side of him, though contorted a bit so he can’t see their cards, and the fact that he’s thinking about being sandwiched in between them in other contexts is really not his fault. Okay. It’s kind of his fault, even though they started it. But Boone and Ryan share a quick look and then Boone does an obvious, super-fake yawn and stretches out, putting his arm around Seth’s shoulders. 

“We hook up with other people sometimes,” Ryan explains. 

In that case, fuck it, he might as well shoot his shot at this point. 

“So…” Seth says, putting his cards down and his hand on Ryan’s thigh. “Wanna make out?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Boone says.

“Wait your turn,” Ryan scolds, pulling Seth in for a kiss, and Boone takes the opportunity to peek at Seth’s remaining cards.

Neither of them notice.


End file.
